Times Square midday: newspaper buildings, news headlines going around, you watch as they go, and hope that some good comes. Those tree shadows in the park they're all whistling chasing leaves. Around six pm, shadows across cobblestones, girl in front of a bathroom mirror she slowly and carefully and paints her face green and mask like. A portrait. A green stripe. Long shot through apartment window, a monologue on top but no girl in shot. The light within you shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway. Like a snake eating its own tail steam turbine, frog farm, two full closets burst open in disarray, soap bubbles in the sun, hospital death bed, red convertible, shopping list, blowjob, deaths head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memories, movements. The movie unreeling, about to begin.

saw the Cribs last night for the first time since 2004. didn't really expect them to play that but they did, with the Lee Ranaldo bit taken from the recordings but with a giant video of his face miming along to it. actually worked really well.

Lowered the quality of vinyl output to suggest CD was the better format.
Kept the prices of CD releases artificially high for *20 years*.
Home taping is killing music.
Insane import CD pricing.
Notoriously bad contracts for artists.
Lobbied the US congress to remove rights for recording artists, and extend copyright term for themselves.
Thirty Seconds To Mars